The Strangest Day
by Danae Dixon
Summary: When General Jack O'Neill is promoted against his will, there is one subordinate in particular he feels he must tell first. S/J


**Characters:** O'Neill and Carter

**Takes Place:** Between Seasons 8 and 9

**Spoilers: **_Threads (8.18)_; Season 9 (kinda)

No copyright infringement blah blah blah. You know the drill.

**The Strangest Day**

A knock at the door brought Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter out of her reverie. Unsure of how long she had been sitting in the feeble lamplight, staring into nothingness, she consulted her watch. Hmm. Late.

Checking through the peephole, she was... well, confused to see her commanding officer, Brigadier General Jack O'Neill. Dressed in civilian clothes, he nonetheless carried with him that ineffable edge of "sir"-ness that made him such an effective leader, and such an admirable man.

Sam opened the door, trying hard to conceal her mixed feelings: a combination of concern, perplexity and, if she was honest with herself, delight. It wasn't often that Jack O'Neill, whether Colonel or General, appeared on her doorstep. Indeed, by unspoken accord, they were rarely alone with one another anymore, and certainly not when off-base, and off-duty. She had been careful not to return to his house, the site of a particularly harrowing humiliation, after she had seen him there with the CIA's Kerry Johnson a few months earlier, and even on their recent – and long-promised – fishing trip to the General's Minnesota cabin, Daniel and Teal'c had accompanied them.

"Sir!" Sam said now, opening the door. "Um. Hi?"

O'Neill's eyes were tender, taking her by surprise. "Carter," he said softly.

"Uh... I... sir?"

"I know, I know, it's late," the General said, a hint of an apology in his voice. "But I just got back from a fun-filled trip to Washington, and I thought I'd come tell you _all_ about it."

"About... Washington, sir?" Sam queried.

"Yeah, y'know, Washington. Dull, grey, big buildings, _way_ too many stairs. Washington."

"Yes, sir, I know. I used to live there, sir."

"Why, so you did, Carter. I don't suppose you ever actually invited anyone _in_ when you lived there, did ya? 'Cause if so, Colorado Springs seems to have really changed you."

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed, embarrassed. "Sorry, sir, of course, come in."

"Thank you."

"Can I get you anything?"

O'Neill raised an eyebrow. "Scotch?"

"Uh... yes, sir. Coming right up."

As Carter retrieved glasses and ice from the kitchen, O'Neill took a seat on her couch. She returned to see him sprawled comfortably, arms over the back of the chair, leaving enough room for her to join him there. And with enough space between them to maintain proper military decorum, of course.

She handed him his drink, and sat, clinking her glass with his when he offered her a silent toast. He drank deeply, and Sam took a small sip, growing increasingly curious as to what had led her usually taciturn CO to seek her out at this late hour.

"So, sir," she prompted him. "Washington."

"Yeah, Washington. It was... well, let's just say, this may go down as the strangest day I've ever had."

"Really, sir? The strangest?" Sam asked with some incredulity.

"Yep."

"Uh... we've had some pretty strange days, sir."

"We have," O'Neill nodded.

"But this one... was stranger?"

"It was."

Sam furrowed her brow. "Stranger than that time we all started seeing inter-dimensional bugs? Stranger than when you got turned into an Ancient? Stranger than when we—?"

"Yes, Carter, yes. This has been the strangest day yet." O'Neill placed his glass down on the table in front of him, with some emphasis, and turned to face her. "You see," he said, with a hint of snippiness, "today I went up to Washington... to resign."

"Sir?" Sam said on a gasp, and couldn't help the smile that suddenly flashed across her face. "Re—"

"And, instead," he went on, in a gentler tone, "I wound up with a promotion."

Sam's smile froze in place. "A... promotion, sir?"

Understanding eyes met hers, now wild with surmise. "Washington," he explained softly. "Homeworld Security."

Sam felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. Or possibly zapped with a Goa'uld pain stick. He... he was leaving? He...

_Pull yourself together, Colonel! _ Sam ordered herself, and struggled to regain her composure. "I... uh, I mean, congratulations, sir. That's..." she sighed, rolling her eyes a little. "Sorry, sir, I'm just... I'm surprised." She took a breath, and looked over at him, not knowing how brightly her eyes shone with sudden, unshed tears. "It's just that I... we'll miss you, sir."

O'Neill nodded. "I'll miss you, too," he whispered.

At his tone, Sam's tears spilled onto her cheeks, and she raised a quick hand to try to conceal them, turning her face away from him. He reached out and seized her by the shoulder, not allowing her to hide.

"C'mere," he said, pulling her toward him, her silky blonde head nestling into his neck. Mute tears coursed their way down her cheeks, and he could feel them, hot and wet and sticky, as they fell on his skin.

He hoped she knew what he meant whenever he said that to her, whenever he put his arms around her—on the far too few occasions that he had allowed himself the luxury. It was a euphemism, his version of "As you wish" from Charlie's favourite movie, _The Princess Bride_. He couldn't say to her what he really wanted to say, so all he could do was say "C'mere," and imbue it with the same affection he put into words like "Captain" and "Major" and "Carter" when he spoke them to her.

The same affection he detected in her voice when she called him "sir."

He would never forget the day they had met, at Stargate Command: he the skeptical soldier, she the poised, proud and proficient scientist. Over the years and throughout the course of their missions, their occasional saving of the world and slightly-less-occasional brushes with mortality, she had become so important to him.

He had thought he'd lost her more than once, and he knew the same was true where Carter was concerned. They had grown so close, and had even admitted their true feelings for each other during one particularly uncomfortable lie-detector test, yet they were compelled to maintain a barrier between them as strong as an Asgard forceshield. He was her commanding officer, she his subordinate, and no matter how special he felt she was, or how hard it had been for him this past year, sending her off into danger and not being there himself to back her up, he couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell her how he felt, or let her tell him how she felt, and have them both still be officers in the United States Air Force.

Hence – as Kerry had suggested, when she had so unceremoniously dumped him – his retirement.

Ah, if only _that_ had worked out. But, as usual, Plan A had gotten screwed the hell up, and now, Carter was crying. This incredible individual, this national treasure, this brilliant and brave and beautiful woman of whom he could only hope to one day be worthy, was in his arms, crying, because of him.

Sam, her chest tight with a pain she didn't want to confront, pulled out of his embrace and sat up straight. He felt her absence like a hole in his side, and for him, that was no idle simile. He wanted to pull her back, but knew it wouldn't be fair. To either of them.

"But why did you... what made you decide to retire, sir?" Sam asked him, wiping away her tears, clearly trying to put her professional demeanor back in place. "I mean, yes, the Goa'uld have been mostly wiped out, and we've defeated Anubis, and the Replicators, but there are still—"

"Still new worlds to explore, new artifacts to discover, new enemies to make. Sure. But the thing is, Sam," she looked up at him, brow furrowed, at the use of her first name. He took a deep breath, looking directly into the huge blue depths of her glistening eyes. "Or, at least the thing _was_... chain of command."

"Chain of command, sir?"

"Well," Jack temporised, "more... regulations. Regs and rules and... and regrets." Sam's eyes grew wide. He smiled. "I grew tired. Of... ah... all of those things."

"You did?" Sam's own smile was back, though not the full wattage she had turned on him earlier.

"Yes. They're... pesky."

"Pesky?"

"Yes. So pesky, in fact, that I wanted to be rid of them, once and for all. I considered using that Dakara machine on them, but since that seems to only work on living things, and those regulations are definitely dead, I decided to just retire. But _then_—"

"Then?" Sam wasn't sure she wanted to hear about "then," about what had changed his mind, about why they would continue to be apart. Was it her? Did he not—?

Jack recognised the wariness in Carter's posture, the subtle shift in her body language that told him she was afraid that what he had to say was going to hurt. Without conscious thought, he reached out and took her hand in his, and he felt a _zing_, as though something that had been out of place was suddenly put back in order. So many times he had wanted to touch her like this, so normally and casually, just while walking down the hall at the SGC, or staring at some Wonder of the Ancient and/or Goa'uld World, while Daniel babbled on about its cultural significance. So many times he had resisted temptation.

And would have to _keep_ resisting it, dammit all.

Sam allowed her General take her hand in his, and was filled with a immediate sense of surety that every moment of tension from the past eight years had been worth it. Every time she'd wanted to reach out, and had held back; every time her heart had hurt, and she'd known it would continue to do so; every time she'd wanted to speak, and had ruthlessly quashed the impulse... it had all been worth it. A calloused thumb slid back and forth across her palm, and the sensation was so electric she felt like she'd just been hit by a localized zat blast, yet so familiar and comforting that she was perfectly at ease.

"_Then_," Jack spoke again, and Sam no longer feared his words, "I was called in to see the President, and he told me that Hammond had gotten there first."

Sam cocked her head to one side. "Sir?"

"General Hammond has retired, Carter," the new head of Homeworld Security informed her. "He's done. And Hayes doesn't feel the program can get by without at least one of us."

Sam gulped. "Well, at least, that's... very flattering, sir."

"Flattering, my ass," Jack objected irascibly. "It's a hostage negotiation. Either I take the job, or the President will 'request' Hammond to come back."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And you know Hammond would do it, there's no _way_ he'd turn down the Commander in Chief." Jack quirked a smile. "Apparently, eight years with me under his command has taught the man nothing."

Carter gave a watery chuckle.

"So." Jack shook his head. "Hammond gets to spend some time with his grandkids, and go fishing all he wants. Meanwhile, I get another star and I have to move house. Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

Sam looked up at O'Neill, her eyes full, had she but known it, of a familiar longing. One he felt himself, and one he so liked that he sometimes wondered if he put himself into perilous situations just to see that look on Carter's face; the one she got when she was afraid she wouldn't see him again. "Sir—"

"Oh, I know, Carter." His hand tightened its grip on hers. "I know."

"Yes, sir. It's just that—"

"Carter." Jack's voice was a caress. "I know."

Sam's eyes sparkled with tears again, and Jack felt his resolve waver. The bond between them had never been more tangible, and it would be so easy, it would be so _right_, to just lean over and—

"Sir," Carter began hesitantly, "maybe _I _could—"

"Don't even consider it, Colonel!" the soon-to-be Major General Jack O'Neill barked, causing her to sit up ramrod straight, as close to parade ground attention as she could get while seated, and with one hand held by her CO. "You will not even _think_ of resigning!"

"Uh. No sir," she agreed hastily.

Jack's eyes softened again, and he put a hand under her chin to lift her eyes to his. "The world still needs you, Carter," he said, in a much quieter voice. "Hell, the galaxy needs you. But..." he paused, and the silence lengthened, as he wondered if he should say it. If he had the courage, and the right, to say what he wanted to say to her, just this once. "But so do I."

Sam felt her heart swell within her. _He needed her. _And she needed him. She always had. His was the first opinion she always sought, the voice she always most needed to hear. When she was injured or ill – a not infrequent occurrence, considering her job was to explore alien planets and fight deadly enemies – just seeing his face would make her feel better, more determined to get out of the infirmary and back to active duty. And when her father had died, and Selmak with him, it had been her General to whom she had turned for solace. But now... now he was going away... leaving her behind...

"So, Carter" he went on, speaking quickly, "I... I suppose I just wanted to say... just want it on the record that... I might be moving to Washington, but I... I won't be moving _on_. I'll still be around. I mean, around... you. And... I'll see you... I mean, we'll see... each other. So..." he managed to stop himself; instead of being embarrassed by his incoherence, he found himself grinning at her like a lunatic.

"So...?"

"So... I guess what I'm saying is, don't go getting involved with any NID agents, or Ascended beings, or aliens from advanced civilizations while I'm away."

Carter laughed. "Yes, sir."

"And no letting your brother set you up on any dates, either." He wagged a finger at her. "I mean it."

She nodded, touched. "Yes, sir," she agreed again, softly. She looked down at their hands, still joined, and he followed the direction of her gaze. But he did not let go.

"And we just... Well. We just..." he trailed off.

Carter looked up, and their eyes met. "We wait," Carter supplied.

"Yes, Carter. We wait." He smiled wryly. "Some more."

Eyes locked for a long time, Jack and Sam felt the weight of all that had been said, and of all the things still left unspoken. When neither could stand it any longer, when the combined force of their forbidden yet soul-deep connection became too much for them to bear, they rose from the couch in wordless agreement, and Sam walked Jack to the door.

"Goodnight, Carter," General O'Neill said on a whisper, his voice catching slightly.

"Goodnight, sir," Lieutenant Colonel Carter replied.

Opening the door, Carter looked up at her boss – soon to be her _boss_'s boss – and gave him a small smile. "You were right, sir," she said.

"I was?"

She nodded, wonderingly. "Yes, sir. This... this has been the _strangest_ day."

O'Neill nodded back. "But also..." he said, on a smile filled with all of the emotions he dare not – yet – express, "... a pretty good one."


End file.
